Little Big Things
by DarkLightningEnvy
Summary: Set in the same universe as False Hope - Andy and Emily are still having issues. Once Andy goes to Miranda for help, all hell breaks loose, and it looks like jealousy is taking the front seat. Emily/Andrea, some Miranda/Andrea
1. 1

_Honestly, when is this bloody thing over with?_

Emily's dark eyes roved over the thick crowd of stuck up rich people, already bored of putting up with their attempts to be civil for a few hours. While she normally would have blended in quite well with this crowd, she was in no mood for it tonight. She wasn't in the mood for whispering names in Miranda's ear, and she wasn't in the mood for Nigel, who stood on Miranda's left, quietly teasing Emily about Andrea Fucking Sachs. Andrea Sachs, the brunette second assistant that seemed to be successfully wedging her way into Emily's private life, much to the redhead's horror.

The brunette second assistant that was an hour late, and successfully pissing Miranda Priestly off.

Emily glanced at the black jeweled watch strapped to her slim wrist, cursing Andy with everything in her. Miranda had been as close to pleasant as Emily had ever seen her at the beginning of the night; now she looked ready to choke someone, literally. Between Emily and Nigel, Emily had a sinking feeling she'd be the lucky victim.

"Call her," Miranda hissed over her shoulder, and Emily dug her cell phone out of the black Veera Wang hanging from her wrist. She was starting to sweat in the black and white Valentino dress clinging to her form, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't because she was nervous about Miranda ripping her head off. Emily was _not_ about to take the fall for Andrea again. She'd done so twice this week already.

One failed phone call later, and Emily was officially panicking. Miranda was going to murder both of them; Andrea for being late, and Emily just to kill her rage until she got her hands on Andrea. And what if something had happened? What if she was dead in a ditch somewhere? 

_Would solve a hell of a lot of my problems,_ Emily thought bitterly. _Including my raging hormones._

"There she is," Nigel said suddenly. "Oh, what fun; she's with Thompson."

Emily's eyes snapped towards the front of the room, where Andrea had just entered with none other than Christian Thompson. She couldn't figure out if the hot flush rising from her neck and into her face was because of her observation of how gorgeous Andrea looked in the knee length white dress she wore, or because of the jealousy and outright disgust at the fact that she was with Christian Thompson.

"Finally," Miranda snarled under her breath, sweeping forward to no doubt strangle Andrea. Emily could only stare.

"You alright, Red?" Nigel asked, moving to stand next to Emily and nudging her shoulder a bit. Emily's head turned towards him briefly before looking back to the scene before her. Miranda was speaking quietly, quickly wiping the bright smile off of Andrea's face. Christian was standing far too close for Emily's subconscious liking, and the look on his face made her want to rip him apart. Nigel glanced in the direction Emily was glaring, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"Why don't you just fuck her and get it over with?"

Emily's head whipped around so quickly, it actually made the muscles in her neck hurt. "Honestly, Nigel, how crass of you."

"Oh come on, both of you want it," Nigel teased. "It's obvious. Why do you think she's tried being so friendly with you lately? It isn't just so you cover her when she messes up." 

_That's not the only thing she's tried,_ Emily thought, flashing back to the night Miranda had caught them fucking on Emily's desk. Instead of firing them both, Miranda had actually sat down and watched, directing the entire thing to better assist Andrea in getting Emily off. Miranda had informed Emily after the incident that she needed to stop holding off on other opportunities over false hope of Emily and Miranda getting back together.

Since then, Emily had just completely disregarded any thought of her previous relationship with Miranda entirely. She and Andrea had another encounter soon after, this one in the backseat of a cab. Both females had tipped the driver rather heavily to get him to keep his mouth shut. But there was no real relationship between them; not so far, at least. Andrea was offering, but Emily's lack of willpower was overwhelming. She was just plain terrified.

"She doesn't look like she wants it right now," Emily muttered, mostly to herself.

"I'll lay you ten to one that she only has him here to make you jealous."

"It worked."

Andrea's eyes suddenly turned on Emily. Sighing, Emily turned away. "If you send her after me, I'll beat you with one of these tacky little trays the waiters are carrying around." With that, she took off towards the back exit.

The cool September air was heaven against Emily's still burning flesh. As soon as the door to the alley shut behind her, she whipped a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse. She really wasn't all for smoking, but it did help the occasional stress; she hadn't gotten as addicted as Serena, at least. She wasn't about to work twice as hard to keep her weight off.

Emily had just situated herself against the alley wall, the cigarette dangling precariously between her fingers, when the alley door opened and Andrea appeared. Rolling her eyes, Emily cursed Nigel and took a long drag of smoke, blowing it into the night air.

"Hey, Em." 

_Great,_ Emily thought to herself. _I'm really not in the mood for small talk._

"What exactly were you thinking, Andrea?" Emily snapped, pushing off of the wall and turning to face Andrea fully. "An hour late for work? And showing up with Christian Thompson, of all people? If Miranda hasn't fired you already, she sure as hell will in the morning."

Andrea bit her lip lightly, looking mildly hurt, and thoroughly ashamed. Emily kept her glare in place, though she wavered internally; why the hell did she have to use that look to her advantage?

"Don't give me the wounded puppy look, Andrea, it isn't going to work tonight."

"I know," Andrea replied. "I'm sorry, Em. I - "

"What?" Emily snapped. "You what? Are you fucking him?"

Andrea blinked. "What?"

"Is that why you decided it was a good idea to show up an hour late with him? Were you at a hotel somewhere, letting him pound you into a wall?"

Amusement was slowly spreading over Andrea's features, and a hint of satisfaction was glowing in her eyes. "Are you jealous?"

"I most certainly am not," Emily retorted. "But I think I have a right to know where the hell my girlfriend goes with a man that has been trying to bed her since he met her."

The silence that followed that was a stunned one; even Emily was surprised. The look of amusement on Andrea's face had turned into downright delight, and Emily could have punched herself.

"So I'm not crazy? We do have something?"

"I don't know," Emily said slowly. "Do we?"

"I thought we did."

Emily sighed; why the hell had she worded that sentence the way she had? She didn't even know if she wanted this. Well, alright, that was a bit of a lie. She wanted it. But she didn't know if she was mentally ready to handle it.

"Go home, Andrea. I'll see you in the morning."

Emily turned to exit the alley, but a strong grip on her arm stopped her. Before she knew what was happening, she was facing Andrea; the girl had quite forcefully spun her around.

"What are you -"

Andrea kissed her. Hard. And the fight Emily put up was extremely half assed, compared to the scene she could have caused had she wanted to make an effort. Her lips parted to the demanding ones pressing against them, and she practically melted at the sensation of a tongue sliding over the seam of her bottom lip. Her arms tightly wound around the girl's neck, and she yanked her against her; Andrea's fingers tightly clinging at her hips sent her hormones reeling.

Before Emily realized what was happening, Andrea's hand had somehow found its way up Emily's dress; her fingers were pressed against Emily's clothed center immediately, and the redhead moaned. Her senses hazed when Andrea shoved Emily's back against the alley wall, and she lost her ability to stand upright on her own at the brunette's thumb pressing and rubbing carefully at her clitoris. The precision with which she touched shocked Emily; she was so cautious, and as much as it fascinated Emily, it was starting to irritate her as well.

"Harder," Emily gasped out, grasping Andrea's wrist and shoving her whole hand against her. Emily gasped again, her hips pushing forward, her fingers still tightly gripping Andrea's wrist as the woman ground her palm against her. The push of her hips matched the pace of Andrea's hand, and before she realized it, she was teetering on the edge of orgasm.

"Tell me what to do," Andrea muttered into Emily's neck, pressing kisses against the pale skin at her exposure. "Help me get you there."

It was common knowledge among every lover Emily had ever had that Emily was one of the most complicated people alive to get an orgasm out of. She even had to work to give herself one. She didn't think it was a medical condition, just a hint of how tightly wound she was. She had considered that an insult when her first boyfriend had said it to her, but she gradually came to realize that it was true. She was too married to her job to have much of a sex life, and when she did have one, it was scheduled into her day, just like everything else in her life.

"Inside," Emily breathed. "Inside."

Andrea's fingers dove beneath the fabric separating them from Emily's core, and pushed immediately into her opening. Emily choked, her forehead falling onto Andrea's shoulder as she dropped the cigarette in her hand and grasped a handful of her own dress, yanking it up to give herself more freedom to move. Her hips rolled forward against Andrea's fingers, and she moaned low in her throat; a little more of this, and she had great potential of hitting rock bottom.

Andrea's fingers thrust and rubbed, but it took another five minutes for Emily's body to finally tense up and spasm; once she finally came down, she realized she hadn't come. Andrea's fingers had slid out of her carefully, and the woman looked a little disappointed; the first time, on Emily's desk, she had at least managed that much. Several times, in fact.

"It isn't your fault," Emily said, though she wasn't sure why she was trying to comfort the girl. "That's just the way it is for me."

"Yeah," Andrea replied, a bit of an empty look in her eyes. Emily didn't have the willpower to convince her further; dropping her dress, she exited the alley with a muttered goodnight, stepping over her dropped cigarette to hail a cab.


	2. 2

Andrea slid into her own cab, feeling a little let down. Emily had definitely been enjoying the ministrations dealt upon her; but obviously not enough to have a full orgasm. Though Emily had said that it was the way she was sometimes, Andrea couldn't help but wonder if there was something more she could do. Had Emily decided Andrea wasn't an adequate partner, and tried to let her off easily by telling her it wasn't her fault? Emily was a pretty blunt woman, always telling people off for their misdoings, but even she wouldn't be heartless enough to tell Andrea off for her sexual performance...right? All of it was confusing. Emily had called Andrea her girlfriend, which was a major shock, yet an even bigger excitement on Andrea's part. But had Emily been serious? She sure looked serious. But if she was one who considered sex a large part of a relationship, she might have changed her mind. A sudden thought occurred to Andrea; it was an insane idea, and she was probably going to get fired, but it was worth a shot. She gave the cab driver Miranda's address, and he changed route from Andrea's Lower East Side apartment to Miranda's ritzy townhouse in the Upper East Side. It took about ten minutes to get there, and once the cab pulled up in front of the townhouse, Andrea had almost convinced herself to turn around and go home.

_She probably isn't even home yet, _Andrea thought to herself. She had the key, of course, for when she dropped off Miranda's dry cleaning and The Book, but this was a personal visit, not a business one; she didn't think Miranda would appreciate Andrea letting herself into her home and helping herself to her living room until she got back, just to have a personal discussion with her. And then, the reality hit her: what the hell had she been thinking, coming all the way out here to talk to her _boss_ about _sex_ with a _co-worker? _And not just any boss: Miranda Priestly.

_Deep breaths, _Andrea thought as she paid the driver and got out of the cab. _If you get fired, at least you tried. _

It was too late to turn back now. Andrea climbed the steps to Miranda's door and rang the bell.

No answer.

_Should have just gone home, _Andrea thought. _Talked to her about it when I dropped off The Book on Monday. _

She wasn't going to give up that easily, however; no matter how annoyed with Andy Miranda was, Andrea wasn't going to let that stop her. Smoothing her dress down, she lowered herself onto the steps in front of the door. She would just wait.

It was another thirty minutes before Miranda's sleek, black Mercedes finally pulled up in front of the townhouse, making the gala the longest party Miranda had hung around at since Andrea was hired at _Runway. _Roy jumped out of the front seat and hurried around to open the back door; his urgency alerted Andrea to the fact that Miranda was in a hurry, meaning she wasn't in a good mood. Meaning she was going to bite Andrea's head off, mount it in the office, and then bury her body where no one could find it. She maintained that level of panic as Miranda slid out of the car, her expression cold and her arms loaded with folders. Andrea didn't even have time to stand up before the Ice Queen had glided up the walkway and halfway up the steps. When she realized someone was sitting on her porch, she paused.

"Honestly, Andrea, get off of the ground," Miranda snapped in greeting. "You'll ruin that dress, and I can guarantee you can't afford anything in The Closet."

_Ouch. _Income attack. Andrea took it as Miranda, at least, acknowledging that she paid terrible money to her assistants. A slight flush crawled up her skin as she stood, moving out of Miranda's way as the fashionista ascended the rest of the stairs and practically jammed the key into the lock on her front door. Andrea followed her inside, catching the door before it slammed and closing it quietly behind her.

The house was empty. The twins must have been with their father, which was a plus for Andrea, since she was sure Miranda didn't want her children hearing any kind of sex talk. There was a chance they were in bed, but Andy doubted it; they came running down to say hello to their mother, whether they were asleep or not, when she came in.

"Where's The Book?"

Andrea blinked. "W-What?"

The scathing look in response caused Andrea to wince. "The Book. Where. Is it?"

The fact that Miranda had slowed down her speech, like she was talking to some fool off the streets, sent a flicker of irritation through Andrea. She held it in, however, and arched a brow coolly. "It's Saturday."

Miranda's own brow flew up. "Marvelous, you've learned the days of the week."

Andrea grit her teeth, running through the past couple of days in her head. Nowhere had she been alerted that she was required to retrieve The Book from someone or somewhere and deliver it to Miranda on a Saturday. She wondered if vocalizing this was a good idea; the irritated look on Miranda's face as she shrugged out of her coat and pulled the coat closet door open said that unless Andrea really did want her head mounted in the office, she'd better keep her mouth shut.

"I…I forgot it."

_Lovely, covering for someone else's mistake, __**again. **_

Miranda sighed. "You are just asking to get fired tonight, aren't you? Why didn't Nigel remind you?"

"Nigel?"

"Yes, _Nigel_," Miranda snapped. "You were to pick The Book up from Nigel's apartment after the gala and bring it to me." The blank look on Andrea's face probably confirmed to Miranda that Andrea had no idea what Miranda was talking about. "Daft, and slow. Charming."

"Will you stop making attacks towards my character for two seconds?" Andrea snapped, completely forgetting her place for several moments. Once she realized what she had said, horror passed over her expression. Miranda's eyes narrowed, but she didn't lash out again; that was a relief.

"If you aren't here to deliver The Book, then what do you want?"

As Miranda hung her coat in the closet and shut the door, Andrea cleared her throat and collected herself. "I, uh…need a bit of a favor."

Miranda said nothing, only folded her arms and gazed at her. Andrea took that as a hint to continue. "Emily and I…are having some issues. I kind of need your advice on something."

Miranda's eyes rolled almost immediately, causing Andrea to sigh silently. She should have seen _that _coming. "I'm serious, okay? I need to know how to please her."

"Dangle me in front of her face," Miranda responded shortly. "The girl always has been and always will be obsessed with me."

"You can't be serious."

"Quite." Miranda pursed her lips briefly before jerking her head towards the hallway, spinning on one black four inch Manolo Blahnik heel and sweeping towards the kitchen. She was a vision in the black floor length number, similar to the one she had worn to Andrea's first gala; the difference in this one, however, was that it dipped lower in the front, and sported a sash around the waist. Hell, Miranda could look like a Queen in anything, that was for sure.

Andrea followed her down the hall, silently coaching herself on what she was going to say while she admired Miranda's appearance. They entered the kitchen to find Estelle, Miranda's night maid, brewing a pot of coffee.

"Go, I'll get it," Miranda said dismissively, waving her hand at the young Spanish woman. Estelle was Andrea's age, with black hair to her waist, framing her dark toned face beautifully. She dressed like she was from some kind of fantasy novel; long, flowing gowns, tight suits with heavy jackets. Andrea had learned early on that Miranda had a deep seeded appreciation for those who took what was "in" and made their own style out of it; Estelle was living, breathing proof and Andrea supposed that was one reason Miranda kept her on staff. Other than the fact that she was fantastic at her job, of course. The one time Andrea had been forced to work from Miranda's kitchen, Estelle had catered to her endlessly. The two had become quite good friends by the end of the night.

Estelle nodded once, stepping away from the pot of coffee. "Good night, Mrs. Priestly," she said softly, her accent making her hard to understand when she spoke in low tones. She smiled at Andrea as she passed, and Andrea returned it with a small smile of her own. Once she was alone with Miranda again, she felt completely anxious.

Miranda was silent as she poured two cups of coffee into porcelain mugs and handed one to Andrea. Andrea took it with a small nod of thanks, blowing softly into it to cool it down. She didn't like her coffee as blazing as Miranda liked hers, though she wasn't about to state that out loud. Miranda seated herself at the counter of the small island, giving Andrea a dark look that said for her to do the same. Andrea did.

"One reason I left Emily was because of her obsessive tendencies. What started as thoughtful gestures turned into obsessive acts for attention and acceptance. She didn't quite seem to realize that she had gotten the acceptance when I allowed her into my bed. I thought perhaps she wanted the attention from everyone, but upon further observation, I concluded it was all directed at me." Miranda paused, taking a slow drink of her coffee before proceeding. "You want to please her? You'd have to give her to me, and I honestly don't want her back."

Andrea stared at Miranda with a slight sense of disbelief; was she seriously hearing this? "Not that I want to lose my job or anything, but you do realize how self centered that just sounded?"

Miranda's brow lifted. "Enlighten me."

"You say Emily's life revolves around you," Andrea replied. "That may have been true in the past, but she let that obsession go the night you told her to stop holding onto false hope."

The brow lifted higher. "She told you about that conversation?"

"I was standing outside the door."

Miranda set her mug down. "I see." A pause as Miranda's piercing gaze swept over Andrea. "What do you want from me?"

Andrea flushed, pursing her lips and glancing around the kitchen. She knew she shouldn't be talking about this, and she was sure she looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to put it. She really was about to get –

"Out with it, Andrea."

Andrea took a deep breath. "I need pointers on how to make her orgasm."

Silence followed that statement. Miranda stared at Andrea like the girl had just told her that Irv Ravitz had finally managed to swipe the _Runway _throne out from under her. Anger, shock, and a bit of hesitancy rested in her eyes; amusement quickly replaced all of them.

"You want me to…oh, dear Lord…"

Suddenly, Miranda was laughing. And not a soft chuckle that one would expect from her; Miranda Priestly was bent forward over the counter, palms pressed to the marble, laughing deeply. Andrea was so shocked, she briefly forgot why she was sitting in the woman's kitchen in the first place.

"I assume you've finally discovered her, ah…resistance…to pleasure?" Miranda asked, wiping her eyes as she slowly calmed down from her fit of laughter. Andrea opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shut it again. It was another moment before she braved words.

"Yeah," Andrea said. "I, um…wasn't really expecting it, seeing as I got her off with no problem the first few times. Granted, they were in one sitting, and I don't think anyone can control themselves enough to _not _have multiple orgasms in one sitting when coaxed, but…"

"You must care about this girl immensely," Miranda said thoughtfully, picking up her mug once again. "Either that, or you are quite stupid, coming to my home at close to midnight and asking me this."

Andrea chewed her lower lip nervously, raising her shoulder in a slight shrug. "A little of both, I guess." Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. "Miranda….please. You seem to be the only one who knows what you're doing. The only one that I know of, at least. You directed me in the office, and it worked. I can't think of another option."

A sudden glint had appeared in Miranda's eyes, and Andrea sat up a bit straighter, preparing herself to get thrown out. Miranda only raked her gaze over Andrea's form, lifting her chin a little to almost peer down her nose at the girl.

"Get on the island."

Andrea blinked. "W-What?"

"I am not impressed with the amount of times you have made me repeat myself tonight. Get. On. The island."

Sliding off of her stool, Andrea reached down and removed her heels, setting them aside before pushing herself up onto the island. Miranda stood as well, grasping both coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. She then swept around the island, pushing Andrea until her back hit the marble, and sliding her hands up the girl's thighs. This brought Andrea's thought track to a screeching halt; _whoa. _Miranda's hands were like silk; no calloused or rough edges, no flaws, and they felt absolutely amazing against Andrea's legs. It wasn't until her dress was suddenly shoved up to her waist that she came back to her senses.

"What are you doing!" Andrea gasped. The words came out in a jumble; she barely understood them herself. Miranda only gave her a severely impatient look.

"I am giving you a demonstration, one you had better be appreciative of, for I would have fired anyone else coming to me with this absurd request."

_Go with it, _Andrea thought to herself. It wasn't necessarily cheating; Emily had called Andrea her girlfriend, but she had also left without explaining the terms of their relationship. Hell, she had left without confirming if she was serious or not. And Andrea was doing this for Emily; she really did want to pleasure the girl. Carefully, Andrea adjusted herself on the island and exhaled.

"All right. I'm appreciative."

"Good," Miranda said as she yanked Andrea's underwear clean off. "Now shut up, and pay attention."

Before Andrea could even process that, Miranda's mouth clamped over her clit, and her tongue pushed against it forcefully. Andrea let out a startled gasp, her hips coming off of the counter; she quickly grabbed the edges of the marble to steady herself, her voice coming out as almost a squeal before she could stop it. "Holy _shit!_"

She felt Miranda smirk, and wondered if the woman would laugh again. It didn't happen; Miranda's tongue flicked over Andrea twice, and the brunette was suddenly coming all over the place. Miranda straightened herself, a thin brow flying up.

"Well, you certainly aren't hard to get off."

Andrea flushed deep crimson at the amusement sparkling in Miranda's eyes and licked her lips. "I…um…" she paused, searching for words. When none came, she just sighed and shut her eyes, muttering, "Shut up."

A chuckle from Miranda surprised her, but she didn't open her eyes. Miranda spoke again.

"That was lesson one. This is lesson two."

Andrea's eyes flew open as three fingers shoved themselves forcefully inside of her, no warning, and no couple of minutes for Andrea to breathe. Miranda wasn't gentle, either; she pumped hard, to the point where Andrea went numb almost immediately. This actually _hurt; _Emily _liked _this?

"Okay, stop," Andrea panted finally, wincing as Miranda slid her fingers out one at a time. "Ow."

Miranda snorted. "Get used to it. When she finally starts fucking you, that is exactly the pace she is going to keep."

_Joy. _

"Anything else?" Andrea asked, propping herself up on her elbows and glaring at Miranda. The white haired beauty grasped hold of Andrea's upper arm and pulled her off of the island, waiting until she was steady on her feet before stepping closer and placing her lips very gently against hers. It was a bit of a shock after all of the brutality; she didn't think Miranda was capable of being so sweet. But her lips grazed against Andrea's carefully, sending the girl into a sense of calmness she had never experienced.

"She likes gentleness as much as she does brutality," Miranda said when she pulled away. "You can rough her up sexually, but treat her like a Queen when you're done. She'll appreciate you a lot more."

Andrea bit her swollen lip and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Miranda."

Miranda didn't respond, only turned towards the sink to retrieve her coffee mug. Andrea picked up her shoes and slipped them back on before turning and heading for the hallway.

"Andrea."

Andrea paused and turned to find Miranda leaned against the sink, her eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"Don't hurt her. It will be the last thing you ever do."

In that moment, Andrea realized the truth: Miranda still cared about Emily. She had let her go for some reason or another, but she hadn't stopped caring. Andrea nodded once, turned, and left the kitchen; half of her was terrified of this revelation. The other half would be forever grateful to Miranda for letting her have Emily.

As she stepped out of the townhouse, Andrea glanced toward the sky and said a silent prayer. _Please, God, let me get this right. _


	3. 3

Emily was exhausted. She had gotten home from the gala a little after midnight, having stopped at a liquor store to buy the biggest bottle of vodka she could find. When she finally walked through the door of her tenth floor apartment, she had lost all desire to actually consume it. Was she really going to let a petty situation like Andrea Sachs drive her back into her previous alcoholic ways? She had ditched the habit just after starting at Runway, due to a very harsh threat from Miranda herself when she had showed up to her first day of work hungover; all it took was a threat to be fired and banished from the fashion world entirely. So she had stashed the vodka in the back of the fridge with her cranberry juice, and concluded that she wouldn't touch it unless she had someone to help her drink it.

After tossing her dress on the closet floor - something she _never _did, but she was too tired to worry about it - Emily grabbed a water from the fridge and curled up on the couch in her black La Perla lingerie, draping a thin cream sheet over herself and flipping on late night television. She was halfway through The Late, Late Show when a rapid knock came from her door.

Scowling, Emily wrapped the sheet tightly around herself and climbed off of her fashionably fancy white clothed couch, setting the bottle of water down on a coaster on the glass coffee table. There was only one person she could think stupid enough to bother her this late, and upon glancing out the peephole, she confirmed her suspicions: Andrea.

Wrenching open the door, Emily shot her best glare out at the woman, the fingers of the hand not clutching the door handle wrapped tightly in the fabric of the sheet to keep it around her half nude form. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you realize what t-"

Andrea was on her. She forced Emily back a few paces by storming into the apartment uninvited, slammed the door, and wrenched the sheet off of Emily's body. Emily's eyes went wide, and she made to swipe the sheet back up. "Andrea, what are you -"

The woman didn't let her finish; she was suddenly all lips, and it was unbelievably distracting. Andrea had slammed her lips against Emily's long enough to shut her up, then moved them down her chin, and onto her neck. Emily grasped Andrea and attempted to push her away, but Andrea grabbed onto her wrists and pulled back a little to look at the redhead.

"Em," she said breathlessly. "Please."

Emily couldn't resist the desperate look in those chocolate eyes. Carefully, she loosened her grip on the shoulders she had taken hostage, not breaking eye contact with the brunette as she lifted one hand to the pale cheek in front of her. "What do you want from me?" she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. Her heart practically fell to the floor when Andrea's free hand came up to cover Emily's, twisting their fingers together.

"I just want you to let me try," Andrea said. "I just want to try."

There didn't seem to be anything else Emily could do, other than lean forward and press her lips to Andrea's. The gentleness in comparison to the previous rough nature of the woman's lips startled Emily, but it brought her a bit of comfort; perhaps this wasn't the most horrible idea Andrea had every come up with. Perhaps they could do this.

She wasn't given much opportunity to think about it. Andrea backed Emily to the couch and pushed her onto it, climbing on to straddle her hips. Her lips returned to Emily's, and she pecked lightly before moving down to her chin again, and back onto her smooth neck. But she didn't stop there this time; her lips continued to stroke over her skin, down her chest, before her lips clamped over a breast through the fabric of her brassiere; and the evil bitch actually _bit down. _

With a strangled moan, Emily's back arched into Andrea's mouth, her hand flying to the long strands of hair attached to her attacker's head. Her intention had been to yank Andrea away, but she found herself pushing the girl's head down, urging her forward. Andrea happily complied, and it was like someone had flipped some kind of switch in the girl - she had gone from hesitant to bold and completely professional in less than twenty four hours. She scooted her body down the couch as she moved her lips to Emily's stomach, tracing her tongue and teeth lightly over flawless skin. Emily's eyes fell closed, and she distinctly thought that this was something close to physical worship.

When Andrea's tongue flicked beneath the lining of Emily's form fitting bikini panties, Emily bit her lip sharply. "Don't _tease, _Andrea," she snapped, practically soaked already from just the ministrations of the girl's lips. She could get used to this, but there was no way she was going to be able to sit still long enough for the girl to put her tongue everywhere _but _the area she wanted it on. She opened her eyes and glared down at Andrea, but it was immediately wiped from her face when she was met with the sight of flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and darkly lustful eyes. She looked ready to devour Emily, literally, and for a moment, Emily wondered why the hell she had been so resistant of this.

"Sorry," Andrea replied, but her smirk indicated she wasn't the least bit sorry. Her fingers hooked into the sides of Emily's panties, and she slid them down her thighs to her ankles, pulling them off and tossing them aside. Her hands slid over the smooth expanse of Emily's calves, up to her thighs, before pushing the woman's legs open and moving forward.

Emily's hips arched off of the couch at the first touch of tongue, and she gasped; where the hell had the brunette bitch learned _that! _Her tongue was pressing and circling relentlessly, and her nail was sliding through the sides of Emily's folds teasingly. Gritting her teeth, Emily grasped a handful of Andrea's hair and held her head in place, her thigh coming up to wrap around the girl's back in desperation; she needed to hold onto something, and Andrea was the only thing in sight that seemed stable.

Andrea's head moved down, and Emily held her breath; a long, low moan slid from her throat when she felt the girl's tongue lick straight through her vulva; but it wasn't just once. She was repeating the motion several times, pressing her tongue against Emily's slit, just barely avoiding entering. Emily squirmed, and a few more seconds of this had her arching up into Andrea's mouth, clutching her hair and coming with a sharp, strangled gasp that might have sounded like she was suffocating. Her body convulsed violently, and fire shot straight through her veins as the blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded against her chest.

When this finally stopped, she slumped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling for a few moments. Emily couldn't figure out if she was humiliated, or just plain shocked; no one had made her do that before. Miranda had made her come, yes, but definitely not that quick, and not that hard. Finally, Emily relented; there was no way she could go without this girl. The sex was excellent, and as loathed as she was to admit it, Emily did enjoy her company.

Before attempting to speak, Emily took a deep breath. "Alright," she said. "You win."

Andrea had sit back on her heels and wiped her red lips, and was in the process of admiring her work. At the sound of Emily's voice, she glanced up to the woman's face and arched a brow slightly. "I win?"

"Yes," Emily replied. "I honestly have no idea what you were trying to prove with this, but whatever it was - "

"Hey," Andrea said quickly, and she sounded hurt. Hurt enough to cause Emily to remove her gaze from the ceiling and look down at the woman. "I'm not trying to prove anything. I just wanted..." With a sigh, Andrea shook her head and got up off of the couch. "Never mind."

"Andrea," Emily said, sitting up and looking around for the sheet that had gotten abandoned between the door and the couch. "That's not what I meant.

"Should I just stop trying?" Andrea asked, and her voice had hardened up a bit. "Is this just one big joke to you? You let me fuck you, but then you have to put me down after - "

"Stop!" Emily exclaimed, pushing off of the couch and glaring hard at the woman. "Is that what you think of me? You think I'm doing this for a fuck? If you haven't noticed, Andrea, I can't really get much out of it most of the time - "

"Something tells me you're lying about that," Andrea cut in. Emily stared at her.

"Excuse me?"

"You were coming pretty hard on your desk in the office," Andrea said. "Multiple times."

"But I wasn't in the backseat of that taxi," Emily snarled back. "Or in the alley."

"You were panting and writhing enough," Andrea shot back.

"You're one to accuse me of playing games," Emily said harshly. "I'm not the one who showed up to a gala with Christian Thompson."

Andrea's expression turned incredulous. "Are you kidding me!" she exclaimed. "He took me to meet an editor. You're acting like I'm fucking him."

"No," Emily replied. "But you would if you had the chance."

"God, Em, what is wrong with you!" Andrea practically shouted, causing Emily's brow to go up. "I'm _here! _With _you! _I don't want Christian Thompson, or I'd be in bed with _him _right now! I wouldn't have gone to Miranda and had her show me how the hell to make you come -"

"You did what?" Emily's voice had dropped to a dangerous level, and her tone was so cold that Andrea visibly shuddered, her big, brown eyes widening a bit.

"I, uh -"

"Did you sleep with her?"

"I really wouldn't count it as...well, okay, yeah, I guess I would..."

An ice cube the size of Texas slid down into Emily's stomach, and Emily swore she was going to throw up. All she did was stare at Andrea though, her dark eyes cold.

"Get out."

"Emily -"

"Andrea...get out."

Biting her lip, Andrea looked at the floor, looking as if she was trying to come up with something to say. Emily didn't want to hear it; she spun and stormed into her room at the back of the apartment, slamming the door behind her and dropping onto her bed. She told herself the tears were due to over-exhaustion.


	4. 4

Andrea had barely stepped foot through the _Runway _doors of Elias-Clarke when Miranda appeared out of nowhere and attached a pincer like grip on her upper right arm. Startled, it took the brunette a moment to realize she was being dragged across the room towards the Dragon Lady's lair. A quick glance at Emily's desk told her the woman wasn't there, but a few others were staring open mouthed at Miranda's display of physical conduct; well. This was lovely. She would be the talk of the entire company at this rate.

Once inside the office, Miranda slammed the door and threw Andrea towards the chairs sitting in front of her desk, though made no indication for her to sit. Andrea stumbled, catching her footing as quick as she could in four inch boots, then lifted her still startled gaze to Miranda. The white haired fashionista looked absolutely terrifying; her eyes were blazing, and her expression was nothing short of pure fury.

"What did you say to her?" Miranda snarled, and Andy's eyes widened considerably.

"Huh?"

"Save the incoherent bullshit, Andrea," Miranda snarled again, causing Andy's jaw to drop slightly; she had never heard Miranda swear outside of 'hell'. "Emily. What did you say to her?"

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, thoroughly surprised she had managed to make her voice work. The lack of informative response seemed to further enrage Miranda.

"She came in this morning, stormed straight into my office, and informed me that I could go fuck myself," Miranda said, sounding no less angry. Andy gasped.

"She...she _what!_"

"Oh yes," Miranda replied, taking a few steps towards Andrea. Andy stepped back without thinking, hitting into one of the chairs behind her. "So do you mind explaining to me exactly what happened between you two that led her to the conclusion that I had something to do with it?"

Andrea reached behind her and gripped the back of the chair, taking a deep breath, then swallowing hard. This was going to be interesting. "Um...I accidently let slip...what happened the other night with us..."

Miranda's brow went up. "What happened the other night with us," she repeated, almost deadpanning.

"When you showed me how to please her," Andy supplied. "She didn't take it well."

"I wouldn't assume she would," Miranda replied, and the fire in her eyes intensified. "Please explain to me why that daft little brain of yours would think telling her that would be logical. Just because I helped you, doesn't mean it was right."

"And yet you did it anyway," Andy snapped in response, suddenly starting to catch up with the situation. "She quit because she thought you ruined her relationship. Fuck, you _did _ruin her relationship. Was that some sick little ploy to split us up so you could have her back?"

"_What?_"

"Well what am I supposed to think!" Andy shrieked. Miranda came forward immediately, clasping her hand over Andrea's mouth and shoving her towards the private bathroom on the other side of the office.

"Be quiet!" she hissed, pushing her into the bathroom and shutting the door. She threw Andrea against the door and removed her hand from her mouth, though pinned her to the door with her body. "What kind of fool do you think I am? I may be an ice queen, but in no way do I go out of my way to ruin the relationships of others. You asked for my assistance, and I gave it to you. If anyone ruined your relationship, it was _you _and that hideously big mouth of yours."

"You know, you can stop insulting me any time now!" Andrea practically yelled. "I'm tired of you calling me stupid, and ugly, and fat! I'm over it, Miranda!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" Miranda challenged. "Quit? I hear you want to be a writer, Andrea; you will never see the inside of another publication."

That shut Andy up; the threat of not having her dream career always did. She had never hated Miranda more than she did in that moment; the woman had the ability to give her everything she had ever hoped for, but the same ability to rip it away.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Andrea asked, her voice calmer, though obviously upset.

"You're to go to her and you're to make sure she is at work for her shift tomorrow," Miranda replied. "And if you fail in doing so, you're fired."

Andy stared incredulously at Miranda, but said nothing; she had already spoken freely enough without getting fired. She wasn't going to push her luck. So instead of responding, she pushed off the door, forcing Miranda back a few steps, pulled it open, and left the bathroom.

~I~I~I

Andrea spent the rest of the day attempting to come up with logical arguments to get Emily back to work. None seemed reasonable, since Andrea couldn't even convince herself of any of them. By the time ten o'clock came around and The Book arrived at her desk, she had spent the day accomplishing absolutely nothing.

When she delivered The Book to Miranda's townhouse, Miranda was waiting for her in the sitting room. "Andrea," she called, and Andrea rolled her eyes, picking up the book from the table she'd deposited it on and heading for the room in question.

"Yes, Miranda?" Andrea asked as she handed The Book to the woman, summoning the most fake tone she could manage.

"Have you spoken to Emily?" Miranda asked, taking The Book and setting it in her lap.

"Working on it," Andrea responded. She didn't add that she really couldn't have gotten very far while doing both hers and Emily's jobs for the day.

"You haven't called her?"

"I figured I'd see her in person," Andrea replied with a shrug. "I'm heading over to her apartment when I leave here."

"Good," Miranda said. "Though it doesn't leave you much time, seeing as she has to be at work in..." she paused to check her watch. "Twelve hours."

"I said I'm working on it," Andrea ground out, a little sharper now. Miranda's brow lifted, but she only waved her hand.

"That's all."

Andrea turned on her heel and headed for the hallway, mouthing a mimicked "That's all" on her way. She hadn't been in this bad of a mood in a very long time; exactly how was she supposed to convince Emily of anything like this? They would likely end up killing each other. Opening the front door of Miranda's townhouse, she exited, heading down the steps and slipping into the town car.

"Home?" Roy asked, looking in the rearview mirror with a smile.

"Emily's," Andrea responded. Roy's brow arched. "Just do it, please. And don't mention to anyone I went over there."

"Sure thing," Roy said, pulling away from the curb and heading away from the townhouse.

_I have a goddamn death wish._

_~I~I~I_

When the town car pulled up to Emily's apartment, Andrea told Roy to wait for a second in case Emily wasn't home. Andrea had no idea where the woman would be at this time a night otherwise, and she really didn't feel like going on a manhunt, so all she could do was pray.

Emily's apartment was not private entry, unfortunately, so Andrea had to ascend a small set of cement steps in order to ring a shiny silver buzzer with Emily's last name on it. The place was in good condition, all things considered; it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it definitely wasn't the worst. Andy couldn't see Emily living somewhere she deemed unfit, no matter how crappy the pay at Runway was. Even before her first time showing up at the place, Andy knew Emily lived in a far better neighborhood than Andy herself, judging by all of the scathing comments about tearing through every shit hole in the city until she found her and ripped her face off.

Three more rings, and Emily still hadn't answered the door. Furrowing her brow, Andrea pulled out her cellphone and hit the speed dial for Emily's, raising the device to her ear. It went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, Em," Andy said into the phone. "I just wanted to talk to you about a couple things. Call me, kay?" Hanging up, Andy cursed, turning on her heel and heading down the steps and back towards the town car. Miranda was going to fire her. It wasn't exactly fair, seeing as it really wasn't her fault; if Emily wouldn't talk to her, how was she supposed to convince her to come back to work?

_Come on, really? _Andy thought to herself. _Since when has Miranda ever been fair about this? _

She was screwed. As she climbed into the town car, Roy glanced in the rearview mirror; as much as Andy liked him, he really couldn't read moods very well.

"Everything okay?"

Andrea nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Don't bother waiting around for me after you drop Miranda off tomorrow."

Roy raised a brow. "No Book tomorrow?"

Andy couldn't bring herself to talk about the situation. So she just shook her head. "No."

~I~I~I

Andrea didn't bother getting out of bed the next morning. She was fired anyway. Her phone went off a total of thirteen times before her shift was even due to start, and she hit ignore on every call. The voicemail alert ringing loudly every five minutes (a setting she regretted putting on that phone in the first place) finally pulled her out of bed at a quarter after ten, and, after settling on the couch with a piece of toast and a bottle of water, she listened to the messages left for her.

There were four, all from Miranda.

7:15am: "I don't appreciate my calls being sent to voicemail, Andrea. Call me immediately."

7:25am: "If you are honestly sleeping through your phone calls, perhaps you better start going to bed earlier. Call me."

7:50am: "This is the last time I am calling you. If I do not receive a return phone call in ten minutes, you're fired."

9:30am: "Goddamnit, Andrea, _where are you? _Get in this office as soon as you get this. We need to talk about Emily."

Sighing, Andrea hit the button to mass delete the messages and took a long drink of her water. She had a feeling this wasn't going to end well. Something in the back of her head was shooting off warning signals; Miranda was the type to use Andrea's feelings for Emily to corner her and rip into her. What if she went in there, and this had nothing to do with Emily?

Hesitantly, Andy called Emily's phone again. Voicemail. Hanging up, Andy finished her toast and got up, heading into her room to find something semi-decent to wear; she wasn't going in to work, so she wasn't exactly concerned with how well put together she was today. Pulling on a plain white button up blouse, a pair of brown slacks, and two inch brown boots, she pulled a brush through her long hair and applied minimal makeup; nothing more than a layer of mascara and eyeliner. She didn't really care much what she looked like today, but she did know the business she was about to step into, and being the talk of the entire office was the last thing she needed, even when she wasn't there to endure it.

Grabbing her bag and her phone, Andrea headed out of her small apartment and towards the subway. It felt nice to be moving around at her own pace, instead of the lightning fast speed she had to maintain in order to keep up with the fashion world and Miranda's impossible needs. She was halfway to Starbucks when she finally got off the subway when she realized she didn't need to be making that run today.

Taking a deep breath, Andrea stepped into Elias-Clarke, preparing herself for the worst. Today, it really did feel like she was stepping into the Dragon Lady's lair.


End file.
